Where I Belong
by Lil black dog
Summary: What if an unforeseen incident forced Jim Kirk to remain on the family farm in Iowa, never to become Starfleet's most celebrated captain? AU. This isn't my usual fare - it's dark, and gritty, and it hurts right up to the end.


A/N: Challenge response from elsewhere – show your character in an alternate reality where they found a different calling in life, rather than service to Starfleet. This is not my usual fare – it's dark, and gritty, and hurts until the very end, so be warned.

Special thanks to Anna Amuse, who brought the challenge to my attention, and helped me keep this story in line and true to itself and the character. Anna - 3 ya!

**Where I Belong**

He was sweating, covered with dirt and grime, a small pebble digging mercilessly into his right shoulder. He had been flat on his back, examining the large piece of farm equipment from underneath for quite some time now, the silence stretching as his brother afforded him the quiet necessary to think. Suddenly, and idea occurred to him, and dragging a dusty sleeve across his damp brow, he called to his companion.

"Sam, hand me the sonic phase regulator. I think I finally see the problem with this damn combine."

The requested tool was proffered and accepted, and the preternatural stillness resumed, only to be interrupted occasionally by muffled grunts accompanied by mild oaths. At last he hauled himself from beneath the behemoth, pushing himself to his feet and brushing the stubborn lock of hair from his eyes.

"Try it now," he called to his older brother, and was rewarded with the gentle hum of the machine being coaxed back to life.

"You did it. I swear to God, sometimes I think you can fix anything."

That might be true for all things mechanical, but the one time in his life he needed to be able to fix something the most, he had been unable to do so. The incident continued to plague him, even though it had taken place nearly fifteen years ago.

***

It was a warm, summer day, and he and his brother Sam had returned from the local swimming hole to find a note hastily scribbled on the small padd resting on the kitchen table of their Iowa farmhouse.

_Dad and I took the new hoverbike for a spin, and we packed a picnic lunch, so don't expect us before dark. I left some fried chicken, potato salad and peach cobbler in the fridge for you. Enjoy, don't forget to do your chores, and Sam, be sure to watch out for Jimmy._

_Love,_

_Mom_

Their dad was a security officer in Starfleet, home for two weeks of leave. After a thorough inspection of the family farm in the morning, with plenty of praise heaped on his two enthusiastic young assistants for the outstanding job they were doing helping to keep things running smoothly in his absence, he had spent the day yesterday with his sons – fishing, swimming, and taking in that all American sport – a baseball game – last evening. It had been wonderful. The boys so rarely got to spend quality time with their father, and yet, whenever he was home on leave, he made sure to divide his time equally between his boys and his wife. Today it was mom's turn to bask in George Kirk, Senior's presence. Despite the fact that he only saw him rarely, young Jimmy was in awe of his father, and had inherited the Kirk impulsiveness and wanderlust, vowing to someday follow in his father's footsteps, whereas his older brother had received the calm, patient stoicism his mother's side of the family was known for, and was content with being on the farm.

Not so for Jimmy. At twelve, he could hardly think of anything else besides leaving the dirt, grit, and perpetual monotony of the Iowa cornfields behind, in favor of swirling space dust, colorful nebulae, and lush, exotic planets. After dark, he would lie for hours on his back outside in the cool, fragrant grass, listening to the chirping of crickets, swatting the occasional mosquito, his chin pointed skywards, fingers laced together, pillowing his head, studying the stars.

He was a straight A student and would apply to Starfleet Academy in three more years; sometimes, when an exceptional student came along, they were offered entrance two full years early, at the tender age of sixteen. Jimmy intended to be one of the lucky ones. In an effort to hasten his eventual career choice, he had entered an essay contest at school and won a three-month trip to Tarsus IV, an up-and-coming colony world. His parents had argued bitterly over whether or not to allow him to go, and in the end, his father had won out. He was scheduled to leave next month, right after his thirteenth birthday, yet unbeknownst to him, the tragedy that was currently unfolding would put an immediate halt to this course of action.

The boys wolfed down their meal, hurried to the barn to muck stalls and feed the livestock, and were back inside the ancient farmhouse in record time. They stretched out comfortably on their stomachs on the floor, heads resting in hands propped up on their elbows, watching their favorite vid program, when Jimmy started to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Sam, dontcha think mom and dad should be back by now? It's getting awfully late." He wrested himself from the old, creaky wooden floor to draw the curtains aside from the front window with a thin, tanned hand and stare down the empty driveway at the approaching dusk.

"Nah. They haven't seen each other for six months. They probably have a lot to catch up on. Besides, maybe they went to McGinty's Irish Pub for a beer, or to visit grandpa," Sam stated disinterestedly.

"But surely if they had done that, mom would've called to let us know. You know how she worries about us," Jimmy said, his voice rising ever-so-slightly.

"About you, mostly. You do have a knack for getting yourself in tight fixes," Sam remarked, coming to stand behind his little brother and placing a reassuring hand on the narrow, slightly trembling shoulder. "C'mon, they're fine, I'm sure. If they aren't back by the end of this program, then we'll decide what to do." Jimmy allowed himself to be steered away from the window and reseated in front of the plasma holoviewer, but it didn't quell his uneasiness.

Yes, he did have quite a talent for finding trouble. His mind jumped immediately to that time when he was six and had fallen down an old, narrow mineshaft, breaking his leg. It was only the fact that Sam had been with him that saved his life. His older brother had gone immediately for help, but it had taken almost two days to extricate him from the site, the walls crumbling and giving way for the rescuers. Eventually, they had had to dig a parallel shaft, proceeding horizontally once they had reached the appropriate depth, freeing Jimmy via this new series of tunnels. He had been shaken and badly scared, not to mention dehydrated, hungry and bruised, but this incident had done nothing to quell his adventurous spirit.

And yet, he seemed to have an uncanny intuition for knowing when people he loved were in danger as well. When he was eight, he had been seized by an overwhelming urge to go visit his grandfather who lived by himself on a small patch of land six kilometers from their farm. He had worried his mother all day, insisting that they had to go check on grandpa Kirk. She had tried calling her father-in-law repeatedly, but when he didn't answer, fell to reassuring herself that he was just caught up in one of his projects outside, unable to hear the comm unit. After three hours of unsuccessfully trying to raise him, however, she beckoned to her young son, who had become almost frantic at this point. Jimmy had been pacing the length of the dining room desperately for the last hour, muttering to himself that something bad had happened to grandpa. Hurrying him outside, she deposited him unceremoniously in the flitter and proceeded to the Kirk homestead.

She had been unprepared for the sight that met her eyes when they entered the house. George's father was sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, unconscious. Jimmy had run to him immediately, his small hand caressing the sallow cheek, sobbing over and over that he was sorry it had taken them so long to get here; that it was his fault he had been unable to convince his mother that something was wrong.

After a hurried call to the authorities for help, she raced to her distraught son's side, pulling him close, stroking his hair, and apologizing profusely for not having believed him. "I'm so sorry, Jimmy," she murmured against his soft, curly, straw-colored head. "You were right, and it's not your fault, it's mine. I'll never doubt you again."

And he had that same feeling now.

"Please, Sam, can't we go and look for them?" Jimmy's eyes had become wide and haunted as he cast a pleading glance in his brother's direction, having reassumed his post at the window several long minutes ago. "Something bad has happened, I just know it." There was anguish and fear competing with worry and frenzy in that tone, and judging by the unnatural paleness of his skin, Sam was sure his little brother was going to be physically sick.

"Okay, Squirt, we'll go and look for them if it'll make you feel better." A curt nod and a quickly released sigh was all the affirmation Sam got before Jimmy raced out the door, his bare feet kicking up small clouds of dust as he headed for the flitter in the waning twilight.

Yet, after an hour of searching all their parents' favorite haunts, they still hadn't found the two Kirks. "They're probably back home by now, wondering where we are. Mom's gonna have my hide for taking the flitter without permission–"

"They aren't at home," Jimmy insisted, panic now coloring his words. "If they were, mom would've called the flitter's comm unit as soon as she saw it was gone," he said in a strained voice, his eyes constantly searching the countryside as it sped by the vehicle's side window in a non-stop blur of motion.

"Then I'll bet they went to McGinty's and we missed their call since we aren't home," Sam countered, exasperation creeping into his tone.

"They aren't there!" Jimmy exploded, tearing his gaze from the window, turning furious eyes on his older brother.

"Then where the hell are they?!" Sam yelled back, just as angry.

"I'm not sure yet," Jimmy answered softly, cryptically, turning back to the window in an effort to hide the trembling of his lower lip.

"Hey, Squirt, don't worry. I'll bet they're fine, really," Sam said, much gentler, once again grasping the bony shoulder and squeezing for emphasis.

"No, they're not." How Jimmy knew this, Sam couldn't have guessed, but his younger brother turned troubled hazel eyes to him again, bright with unshed tears. "Sam, turn left up at the next intersection. I've got a hunch." He paused, struggling to put the vague, inchoate feeling into words. "There's that hairpin turn up the road a ways, and knowing dad—"

"He probably wanted to test the bike out on the curve," Sam finished. They exchanged a worried glance.

"Okay, let's check it out," the elder Kirk replied apprehensively, feeling the uncertainty starting to build within him as well. He made the turn and the next two kilometers passed in uneasy silence, the two peering out into the now-darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything…

Sam thought he saw something flash in the blackness, the flitter's headlights glinting off metal just ahead. His brother must have seen it, too. "Sam, stop!" Jimmy shouted abruptly, confirming his elder brother's suspicions, opening the door and jumping out before the aircar had come to a complete halt. "Call for help!" he sent over his shoulder, disappearing into the night.

"Hey Squirt, wait up," Sam yelled, trying desperately to follow Jimmy's golden head, bobbing before him in the pale moonlight.

In the weak glow cast by the vehicle's lights, he saw Jimmy crash to his knees ten meters ahead of him, a heartrending sob escaping from his lips.

It was all Sam could do to not throw up when he arrived at the scene. The hoverbike was in pieces around them, the engine sprawled across his dad's torso. But it was not the smell of burnt flesh that was making his stomach clench and heave violently, rather the unnatural angle of his father's neck. He didn't have to get any closer – George Kirk was dead, that much was obvious. His attention was drawn to Jimmy, who was bent over the figure of his mother, her body several meters away from his dad.

"Mom, I'm so sorry – we got here as fast as we could," he said, tears coursing down his cheeks, but his voice steady. "Sam called – help's on the way," he reassured her, gently brushing her hair back from her face. As Sam approached, he could see that his mom too was positioned in a way that was impossible for a human to achieve, her back twisted horribly, one arm bent at the elbow in a direction it was not meant to go.

He dropped to his knees as well, but found himself unable to offer words of comfort as his brother was doing, afraid the quavering of his voice would alert his mother to just how bad the situation was.

"Jimmy, is that you?"

"Yeah mom, it's me. Sam's here, too. Help should be here any minute…"

"Your dad – where's your dad? George!" She called frantically, struggling to rise.

Sam turned away, choking on the sob that threatened to escape from his throat, unable to answer his mom's anguished cry.

But Jimmy remained calm, in control. To this day, Sam often wondered how he'd managed it. "It's okay, mom, he's over there," her youngest son reassured her, gently pressing a hand to her shoulder, effectively halting her attempt to turn and look at her husband.

"Is he okay?"

Sam's heart leapt into his throat – how could they answer that, without upsetting her further? And if they lied to her, would she ever be able to forgive them? Ever be able to trust them again when it mattered the most? Once more, Jimmy took charge of the situation.

"He's not in pain, mom." Continuing to soothe her with that soft, steady, composed tone.

_Of course not – he's dead, _Sam thought, as the realization finally struck home, seizing him in a paroxysm of emotional agony. He felt as though someone had reached down his throat, pulled out his heart, and was now jumping up and down on it.

"You're the one I'm worried about at the moment. Please, lie still mom," Jimmy begged, tenderly stroking her cheek, and she stilled under his sure, gentle touch.

The EMS workers arrived a few moments later. Winona Kirk had broken her back. Despite major advances that had been made in medicine in the last several centuries, there were just some things their science couldn't yet repair. Fixing her back and damaged spinal cord had been easy, a walk in the park and routine as current procedures went; it was the injury to her brain they had been unable to deal with. The subdural hematoma had not been caught in time to prevent extensive damage to the portion of her cerebral cortex responsible for motor function.

Winona Kirk would never walk again.

The loss of her husband was the final blow, adding insult to the already devastating injury. Jimmy had decided there and then that his place was here, at her side, not gallivanting around the galaxy. The guilt and self-recrimination were crippling at times; he viewed the loss of his father and life-altering injury to his mother as his fault and his fault alone. He should have been stronger, more persuasive, more insistent that he and Sam went to look for them as soon as he had the first inkling that something was amiss. That hour delay had cost his mother dearly; the doctors unwittingly told them that if they had seen her even half an hour earlier, they could have prevented the irreversible damage to her brain. Now, there was nothing they could do but make her comfortable and discuss options for her ongoing care with her two young sons.

Sam suffered as well, begging Jimmy for forgiveness, apologizing over and over for not listening to his only sibling. The younger Kirk had forgiven him at once, absolving his brother of any responsibility, carrying all the blame silently on shoulders that at the time were ill-equipped and much too small to handle it. Yes, they were quite a pair, indeed.

And so they stayed and ran the family farm. Sam had never been sure of the direction his life would take. It had almost been a relief to have the decision made for him. Jimmy, on the other hand, had known from a very early age that he was predestined to live his life among the stars. It hurt like hell, but he gave up his dreams of Starfleet and early entry into the prestigious academy, resigning himself to his fate, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the family business as he did with any enterprise he undertook. His grandfather had helped at first, but he, too was old and frail and had passed away six years ago, never quite recovering emotionally from the loss of his oldest son and the irreversible crippling of his daughter-in-law.

Somehow, the tiny family managed to build a life. Winona might be unable to walk, but she still did her share, caring for her boys to the best of her ability, doing whatever she was able to do to help wherever possible.

And life went on; it was even good – at least, that's what Jim kept telling himself. When Sam was twenty, he had married the love of his life and she moved in with her new husband on the Kirk family farm, blessing Sam with three sons – George, Tommy and Peter – over the next five years. Winona doted on her grandsons, and they positively adored their Uncle Jim, following him around as if he were the Pied Piper.

But while Sam and Aurelan put down roots like the strong prairie grass that surrounded their fields, it was as if Jim was a tumbleweed, constantly in motion, never satisfied with where he was but always in a hurry to get somewhere else. He was restless and brimming with pent-up energy, although he did his best to hide it from his family. His mom often asked him why he didn't find a nice girl and settle down like Sam had done, for there was no shortage of interested parties, but it wasn't to be. It was as if he knew that by doing so, his fate would be forever sealed, linking him permanently to this place.

And so their extended family fell into a comfortable routine, undisturbed until Winona's death six months ago. It had hit them all hard, especially his nephews, but in true Kirk fashion they got through it and soldiered on.

While his mom's death was a tragic blow, it also caused something to shift in Jim. She had been the reason he remained here, and while he loved his brother's family, somehow that was simply not enough to compel him to stay.

He had been dreading this exchange for some time, but it now seemed unavoidable. He had put in a request and been granted a billet at Starfleet Academy, despite the fact he was ten years older than the average student. _Better_ _late_ _than_ _never,_ he had remarked to himself. The boys had long since gone to bed, and the three of them were seated at the large dining room table, discussing what crops they should plant in the spring. His thoughts kept drifting, and he found himself unable to follow the conversation.

_No time like the present,_ he said to himself, drawing in a deep, cleansing breath before proceeding. "Sam, I can't do this anymore. It's slowly killing me. Every day I'm still here another tiny part of me dies. Soon, there won't be anything left. I've applied to and been accepted at Starfleet Academy." Uncharacteristically, he found himself unable to meet their eyes.

A soft, warm hand closed over his and he looked up, startled. Compassionate, green eyes met and held his, enveloping him in affection mingled with obvious concern. "We knew this was coming, Jim. Once Winona died, we knew there'd be nothing left to hold you here." He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a slight shake of her head and a thin, yet warm smile. "We know it doesn't mean you don't love us, or your nephews, but you weren't meant for this. You were meant for something bigger, something better. Your mom always said it could only take the tragedy that befell this family to curb your exuberance. She felt guilty every day that you were here, working in the fields, rather than exploring the stars."

He jumped to his feet at that, raking a hand through his hair. "It's not like that, Aurelan. I don't blame mom for what happened, or for my decision to stay here," he said bluntly, turning to pace the confines of the room.

"Of course you don't. That's not what I meant," his sister-in-law soothed, getting to her feet as well. "Your mom didn't blame herself, either, but it did hurt her to know that you were unhappy here."

"I wasn't unhappy," he insisted harshly.

"I know you weren't and so did she. It was a poor choice of words on my part. Unfulfilled, unable to realize your potential – whatever you want to call it – it doesn't matter now. All that does is that now there is nothing holding you back; nothing keeping you from attaining your dream. Sam, the boys and I are happy here, and thanks to you and all your hard work over the last fifteen years, this farm is running so smoothly, it practically takes care of itself. The boys are older now, and they love being here." She paused, a small sigh escaping her lips. "What I'm trying to say is, even though we'll miss you terribly, we can manage without you." She had grasped his hands in hers and was searching his face earnestly, but he turned his gaze to his older brother, still seated at the table, who had remained strangely quiet throughout this exchange.

"Sam?"

His brother's silence continued, the older Kirk visibly collecting his thoughts before permitting himself to speak. "Aurelan's right Jim, she and I have already discussed this. We knew it was a foregone conclusion, the only thing up in the air was when you'd finally reach your decision." He glanced up at his brother then, his clear blue eyes locking with the flashing, hazel ones.

"I won't abandon you, Sam," Jim remarked defensively, his gaze hardening, reflexively disentangling his hands from Aurelan's.

"You won't be." He had risen from the table and crossed the distance to his younger sibling in a few measured strides. Grasping a forearm he continued gently, "little brother, ever since we were kids I knew this life wasn't for you. You were always more like dad in that sense, you know?"

Jim swallowed convulsively at the lump that sprang to his throat. It wasn't very often that he permitted himself to think of George Samuel Kirk, Sr., but when he did it was always accompanied by a staggering amount of pain. He had so wanted to be like his father. _And I was – am, _he told himself. _I did everything I could to make sure mom was okay during the last years of her life. That's what he would have wanted, would have expected of me._

And true to form, Sam was echoing his thoughts. "Dad would've wanted you, wanted us, to take care of mom, and we did, but she is gone now, and that responsibility along with it. Dad always believed you'd follow in his footsteps, and now you can. It's your destiny, Squirt," Sam said, resorting to the endearment of their youth. "Don't be afraid or unwilling to pursue it. We have known it for some time now and sure as hell don't want to stand in your way."

Jim couldn't stop himself from tugging Sam into a tight bear hug. They may have been close before, but the tragic accident of their youth had brought them together as nothing else could have. He had tried for all those years never to let on to Sam that being here on the farm was not what he wanted, but his brother had seen through his false façade of contentment and had known all along.

"I just want you to be happy, Jim – that's all I've ever wanted. If I hadn't screwed up our lives, you could've–"

"Stop it, Sam." He was now holding his brother at arm's length, anger making his eyes swirl and dance. "I don't blame you for what happened – never did, never will."

"But don't you see – I do, and now I have the opportunity to make things right again. You lost ten years of your life here, to us, but now you have a chance for that life that was taken from you. Don't give it up again – I couldn't bear it. Seeing you waste your talents here for the last ten years caused part of me to die inside every day as well. I knew I could never talk you into leaving while mom was alive, but now there's no reason you can't. Go, with our blessing, and give us both a chance to heal." Sam's eyes were very bright and full, and he could hear Aurelan sobbing quietly in the background. Part of him didn't want to go, but a bigger part knew he had to, or he'd wind up imploding, as if he were being sucked into the vast nothingness of a black hole.

He crushed his brother to him again, and felt Aurelan come up and hug them both. His family was so wonderful – he didn't deserve them.

Shrugging himself free of their embrace, he searched first one face, then the other incredulously. "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

"Of course we are," Sam replied immediately. "We'll miss you terribly, especially the boys, but it's not like you'll be gone for good. We'll get to see you for the holidays and when classes aren't in session while you're at the Academy, and once you're out in the cosmos, there's always leave. Unless, of course, you manage to find someone better to spend it with," Sam Kirk said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Besides, your nephews already think you're Superman incarnate. Just imagine how they'll brag about you to their friends once you're an officer in Starfleet."

Jim didn't know how to respond. He stood for several long seconds, mouth agape, before a wide grin split his features.

"Oh, Jim, it's good to see you smile like that again," Aurelan commented through a veil of joyful tears. "I haven't seen that in years."

***

He was now seated alone at the dining room table, Sam and Aurelan having long since gone to bed. He was wide awake, still playing over the events of the last few hours in his head. Nervous energy caused him to rise swiftly to his feet, heading for the front door. He stepped out into the cool night air, his stocking feet padding softly over the wooden porch. He crossed to the railing, leaning forward, face turned upward. The stars winked at him, beckoning him with that siren call he had heard so many years ago. _It won't be long now, _he thought, _and I'll finally be where I belong._


End file.
